


Trust Exercise

by CarpentryandDarkMagic



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-04
Updated: 2013-08-04
Packaged: 2017-12-22 08:35:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 799
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/911122
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CarpentryandDarkMagic/pseuds/CarpentryandDarkMagic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hannibal and Will have an unconventional session.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Trust Exercise

**Author's Note:**

> As usual, concrit is welcome and encouraged!

Will sat as still as he could, but couldn't quite stop himself from fidgeting. When he moved his eyes behind half-closed lids he could feel his lashes brushing against the fabric of the blindfold. The slickness of the chair arm under his nervous fingers, the sound of footsteps around him, the smell of old books and a fainter whiff of red wine airing somewhere in the room. He was somewhere familiar. Had he drank any of the wine? He couldn't taste it on his tongue -- thick and heavy in his mouth like cotton-wrapped lead -- but he couldn't remember. How had he gotten here? Had he lost time again? He heard a low steady sound and realized it was a voice. 

"Don't you trust me, Will?" The speaker was somewhere close but he couldn't tell exactly where. 

He shifted, ill-at-ease. He was very uncomfortably aware that he was half-erect.

"...eye contact...?" 

Will found himself straining to hear. The voice reached him muffled, as though he were underwater. 

He cleared his throat. "I'm sorry, Dr. Lecter, I didn't quite catch that."

"No?" A susurrus of cloth and Will felt warm breath against his ear. "Is that better?"

Fingers brushed against the curls at the nape of his neck as Lecter checked the knot of the blindfold and Will found himself shivering at the touch. 

"I was asking if this was helping you. You were holding something back, and we thought that removing the distraction of eye contact might help you be more forthcoming" -- the brush of the fingers again -- "And I was asking you if you trust me."

Remembering why he was there Will said in a rush, "I had a dream."

Silence, and then: "Another nightmare, Will? Did you come to me for a glass of warm milk?" 

Will could hear the smile in Hannibal's voice.

"It wasn't a nightmare," he said through gritted teeth. "I don't remember...much detail."

"Was this dream violent in nature? Is that why it disturbed you?"

Will didn't answer. 

"No? Erotic?"

Even without the shame of eye contact Will turned his head away. "Yes then. And the subject of this dream?"

Without meaning to, he turned his head just a fraction back towards the source of the voice, as if he could search the face for an expression. Even that betrayed him.

"I see. Will, I'm afraid that the nature of our relationship is clouding my judgement right now."

Will reached for the strip of cloth covering his eyes, but the weight and warmth of another hand over his own stopped him. 

"If I mention the increase in your pulse rate, is that a professional observation or a personal one? The flush on your cheeks? Your unsteady breathing? Your..." That sentence hung unfinished in the air between them, but the vague sensation of fingertips across the fabric of his jeans made its meaning clear. 

Will let out a long withheld sound. Even with his eyes covered the storm of sensory input was dizzying. Fingers against his cheek; in his hair. The difference between hands on his clothing and against his skin. The sound and feeling of his own breath in his throat. More and more and more of that other breath, that other voice in his ear filling his head, pouring down his throat until he was drunk with it. The touching at first was gentle and soothing and he leant desperately into every touch and caress. Other skin pressing against his own was ecstatic relief like a dip in a cold clear pool in sweltering heat. But soon the friction became grating. There were too many hands on him, too invasive. The fullness building in his groin was overwhelming and he started to panic and struggle, his gasped cries fear as much as excitement.

And then the blindfold was gone and he recoiled in horror from the small, white hands that lifted it away. Hannibal stood behind her, his features obscured as if by a heavy fog.

"See? He made me important, Will."

Abigail's hair was a tangled mass of blood and gore on the left side. She was smiling. Her empty eyes were the eyes of eight girls she had offered up. 

"By changing me he changed you. He showed us both what we could be."

The near-climactic tension of his arousal only added to Will's repulsion. When he jerked up out of his chair a shooting pain made him cry out, clutching his shoulder.

He was disoriented, gasping in pain and confusion. His surroundings were dark and silent. He was alone, lying on his right side. Abigail Hobbs was dead. Her mentor and murderer was still at large and Will Graham was lying on the cold cement floor of the Baltimore Hospital for the Criminally Insane with a rock hard erection.


End file.
